The Peacemakers
by InsanityManifest
Summary: AU: A story of seven killers with plenty of bullets, blood, and payback. A 100-Bullets/Noir-esque universe with a Titans/DC twist. Expect adult situations and themes within. Pairings are arbitrary and may change multiple times...Or not. Read and enjoy!


_It began with murder and fire._

_The story of my life, the one thing I could never escape. It's not the kind death you see in the movies where the hero goes down in a blaze of glory, no it's the kind that's neither slow nor fast. In the blink of an eye a person becomes a corpse. It's simple._

_It is what it is, nothing more or less._

_Yet, this one..I couldn't settle it, that nervousness, the kind of feeling you get in the pit of your stomach before a guilty pleasure. You want to ignore it and do what comes naturally but, you know how damn wrong it is and your gut doesn't let you forget it._

_It rained that night. A low prickly mist that never really drenched you but could get you wet enough to bitch. And believe me, Harper was bitching as always. The guy was always worried about his hair, keeping it neat and combed in that cesear hairdo of his. _

_"For fuck's sake, why tonight?"_

_I bottom's up my bottle of mezcal, hoping the burning in my throat and the buzz in my head will drown the redhead out. _

_"Pickin' a sunny day to do him up too much to ask?"_

_It didn't help. I glanced over at Roy. The guy had his feet propped up outside the car window, just like he was lounging in a hammock. Apparently the guy didn't give two shits if his shoes got wet. Then again. maybe he would bitch about that later too. The guy was the epitome of unprofessional, his black suit undone down to his chest. God only knows where his tie went._

_Honestly, how hard is it to wear a black suit?_

_Roy slid his shades up so they rested on his head like a wreath, "You listenin' Wonder Bread?"_

_Fuck you Roy..._

_I told him, "Whatever." Had to stay neutral with guys like this. I knew he was tweaked in the worst kind of way, and for all his douchebag tendencies, Harper was still a cold-blooded killing machine. _

_Like all of us._

_Like me._

_"Relax Grayson, won't be long now."_

_Wayne...The old man always could read me like a book. I could only see the back his head on account of him driving, the line of a widow's peak in his pepper gray hair. I wanted to hate him for dragging us out there, for making us do what we did that dark day._

_The cars came to a stop at the ruins of the old Gotham courthouse. It had once been a beacon of justice in a city gone to hell. It was and still is just a pile of rubble, home to the rats and occasional wino. There was too much irony in the place for my liking. Too many memories both the good and the bad. A grey sky always hovered over the place, a fog that obscured everything around it._

_Too perfect for a murder. _

_I exited out of the car first, eager to get this done._

_Harper, Wayne, and Garth followed me out of the first car. In the distance I could see the headlights of the second BMW pulling up. I knew who was in there but I still had my hands on my hips, my fingers ready to draw and put holes in anyone that wasn't supposed to be there. _

_Troy exited first. My fingers eased back down to my sides. As long as she was good, everything was gravy. She was one of the few of us I truly respected, aside from the old man. Then came Barbara and that jittery fuck West. They were dragging "you-know-who" with them and I felt my heart hit ninety miles an hour. _

_"Why didn't we just put a bullet in him? The showmanship is top-notch Bruce, but this is ridiculous," Wally whined. _

_Wayne shot him a look with those stormclouds of blue he had for eyes, and West shut it. _

_I always wondered how he did that._

_"So there's no going back after this is there?" I asked him._

_"You chose, just like the rest of us," He didn't even look at me, his eyes never left "you-know-who."_

_Bullshit._

_"Since when have we had a choice with you?"_

_I could tell Wayne was grinning, his broad shoulders always gave a little when he did, "Choices have consequences."_

_Cryptic and threatening at the same damn time, as always. I watched Gordon and West drag him to the clearing in the middle of the rubble. The low rumblings of thunder were enough to give me pause and I brought a cigarette to my lips. There could have been a hurricane and I would have still lit up. I needed it._

_Troy gave me a light. I felt the foul smoke creep into my lungs and inhaled for all it was worth, watching her as she lit a cigarette for herself. She shot me her slow smile. Even with that long raven hair and body of hers, it was that smile that always did me in._

_Troy..._

_Goddamnit._

_"You cool Grayson?" she asked me._

_"How do I look to you?"_

_She didn't answer. She knew._

_We all knew._

_West shuffled back to the rest of the group, wringing and rubbing his hands. I could never tell if it was a nervous tick or just West being...West. Doesn't matter so much anymore I guess._

_"So!" he said, slapping his palms together, "How about a barbeque?"_

_"Not now West," Garth muttered. The pretty boy always was a quiet one. Dependable and quiet. We worked together often._

_"Oh fuck you that was funny!" West grinned, jabbing a thumb towards Gordon, who was busy with the kerosine. Babs must have nearly emptied the whole can on "you-know-who" before dragging a neat line of flammable liquid back towards us. _

_None of us were laughing. Well, except maybe Harper, but I was too nervous to remember. Time slowed down as Bruce struck the match._

_The moment of truth._

_The match fell and the flames rose. There was no screaming, no writhing in agony, just burning. "You-know-who" burned a lot longer than any of us thought he would, or maybe it just felt that way. Death, in all it's simplistic glory. We all watched in reverrent silence. _

_I'll never forget what he told me that dark day._

_"Grayson...We aren't above the law. Remember that."_

_That was the first lesson he taught me when he took me in._

_"We simply ignore it."_

_The second._

_ Wayne was never cocksure, just confident. Solid. I wanted to believe him, like always. I wanted to believe that this, like all the other jobs would pass and fade from my memory. I wanted to believe in him so badly._

_And now he's dead._

T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T

"Fuck."

It's a compulsive mantra that keeps spewing out of my mouth, no matter how bad I want to shut the hell up.

"Fuck."

I see his office, the place absolutely trashed. Even though Wayne lived in a mansion, his office was spartan. A simple desk in a large room, the walls painted in newspaper clippings and files. Bruce said that reading the walls was better than having a cluttered desk. I still remember him roaming the room, circle after circle, the old man's mind like clockwork.

Now, his body rested against the large mirror that used to illuminate the place in the afternoon sun. The two bullet-holes in his chest probably sent him there. The one hole in his head finished him. The trail of blood beneath him proved that theory correct.

"Fuck."

Wayne was dead. I always thought the old man was invincble. Some kind of superhero. Sure there were plenty of guys that could outshoot, outfight, and even outfox him at times.

But Wayne was always ten steps ahead. It was that little talent that kept him alive.

Until now that is.

"Fuck me..."

That one wasn't mine. I turn and see Roy in the doorway. His cigarette is already falling from his lips. The look on his face means I can count him out as a suspect. Can't help not thinking like that. It's my way. Even as he stood there in shock, like someone had just put a gun to his nuts, I still didn't trust him.

I don't think I ever really trust anybody.

"So that's it huh? We're it!?" Harper is panicking, not good.

"We're it."

Roy picks up his cigarette, "We're fucked."

"Not while we're alive we aren't," I look around the room still I find a briefcase and start stuff the newest files into it. I need more data before I can make my next move. Jesus, "my" next move...Will I ever get used to that?

"Are you kidding me man?" Harper was pacing now, "The Girl, the Flash, the Shark, the Oracle, and now The Bat! This is it. We're done!" He's right in a way. We're being wiped out. The only reason Harper and I are still alive is because Wayne told us to pick up a package from an old friend of his two days ago. Did he see this coming?

Then why not inform all of us? West was thrown out of his highrise apartment. Garth was gunned down at his favorite deli. Babs was done in by a shotgun blast to the back of the head.

Troy was...I don't want to think about Troy.

I don't want to think about any of this. My hands start shaking as I stuff more documents and evidence into the case. It won't end like this. I won't go out like some rabid dog. At the very least, I'm gonna bare my teeth before a bullet calls my name. I shove Bruce's laptop into the case and lock it shut. Takes me a few tries, since it's overstuffed but I finally seal it.

"We're going Roy. Douse this place and burn it. Cover our tracks."

Roy just stands there, still mind-fucked. I grab him by his collar and slam him against the wall. I feel him fighting back so I give him a good hard punch in the gut. I don't know where this strength came from, this ruthlessness, this willingness to break someone. Something inside me has broken and all I have on my mind was one thing.

Revenge. And Harper's shit is nowhere in that equation.

"Who are you?" I ask him.

"What the-?"

I punch him in the gut and ask him again.

He manages to sputter out his name.

I punch him again.

"The Arrow!"

Like a brick to the head he stops shaking and looks at me through his shades. I stare at him through mine. He understands that this is how it is. He gets the message, I let him go. It takes Roy about half a second to pick himself up and get to work. I knew Roy couldn't take a punch for shit and felt the urge to ask him if he was cool. The old me would have.

The new me doesn't give a damn.

T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T

Even as the heat licks at my face, I still watch Wayne Manor burn. I bring a cigarette to my lips and Harper lights it, before firing up his own. The little flames on our cancer sticks do the immense flame in front of us no justice.

"So what's our next move Wonder Bread?" Roy asks, a plume of smoke escaping his nostrils.

My eyebrow arches all on its own but, I've giving enough ass-kickings for one day and humor him, "We nail the son of a bitch that did this. We nail him to the fucking wall."

"How we gonna do that?" he asks me.

"We start over."

We watch the manor burn for a little while longer before we take the long road out of Gotham.

"Wayne always did right by me. The fucker that did this will pay," I hear Roy say.

That's how we do business Roy. I don't say it, because it doesn't need to be said. It's like Bruce used to say. We aren't above the law. We simply ignore it.

We are justice.

We bring death.

Murder and fire.

The story of my life...

T-T-T-T-T-T-T-T

Next Chapter: "The Big Guns" Part 1.


End file.
